


Complicated

by StealingPennies



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mentor/Sidekick, Trope Bingo Round 3, Trope Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealingPennies/pseuds/StealingPennies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Decision made, d’Artagnan slips into Carbonet’s newly-vacated chair. “Cards?” he asks disingenuously. </i>
  <br/><i>Athos’s eyes are half-lidded but he nods and deals out a new hand. “Why not?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Trope Bingo square: Against all odds. Odds relating to cards in this instance.  
> Written as gen but could probably be Athos/d’Artagnan pre-slash with a bit of squinting.

**COMPLICATED**

D’Artagnan has never suffered from lack of confidence. It is, Porthos informs him, one of his more endearing qualities. Naturally d’Artagnan would like to know what the other qualities are but at that Porthos just laughs and tells him not to go looking for trouble. Unless, that is, d’Artagnan also wants a list of his faults in which case any one of the Musketeers will no doubt be pleased to oblige.

Porthos laughs a lot. His easy banter is one of _his_ endearing attributes. It’s something that d’Artagnan strives to copy without being too obvious about it. He’s slowly realising that sometimes it is better to joke your way out of difficult situations and not to instantly take offence and offer to fight at every unintended slight. Not that Porthos is easy-going. Not when you dig deep. Far from it, he’s risen from the slums of the Miracle Courts to become one of the King’s own Musketeers and no one does that without a great deal of determination. D’Artagnan is learning to pick his battles.

In a similar way d‘Artagnan watches Aramis in his dealings with people. Aramis has effortless charm and something of a reputation as a lover. It works with the ladies but it also works with shopkeepers and courtiers or even his friends. The charm can be a barrier as well as an opening but D’Artagnan is learning to see behind the mechanisms. Aramis sets great store by God and, despite the horror of blood and injustice he has seen, still retains a faith in a fair and loving deity. D’Artagnan attends church, of course, as is expected. But he rarely thinks beyond the service itself and often daydreams of Constance during the sermon. He tries to emulate Aramis’s belief in the essential goodness of humanity.

That leaves Athos. He is their leader, insofar as they have a leader, answering as they all do to Captain Treville. Athos is an excellent swordsman but so are Porthos and Aramis. So, for that matter, is d’Artagnan himself. Athos is not easy to laughter or effortlessly good-natured. He’s difficult and surly and drinks too much without gaining the pleasure that drink seems to afford other men. And yet when Athos speaks they all listen. Athos is complicated.

D’Artagnan watches Athos now. He’s losing badly at piquet to a former solider turned professional beggar. Raoul Carbonet lost both legs in a long-forgotten border skirmish against the Spanish and now swings his way with difficulty on crutches. He is a bitter fixture at the table in the corner of the Coq Rouge mouthing obscenities over a pitcher of wine. D’Artagnan feels pity – who wouldn’t – but not enough wish to spend any time listening to such railings.

He’s considering joining the game. After all, if Athos is determined to lose money than d’Artagnan could do with some input towards the month’s rent. He glances around the room and sees Porthos and Aramis both eyeing Athos while trying to look uninterested. As d’Artagnan debates, Carbonet gives a bellow of laughter and rises unsteadily on his crutches clutching his winnings in one dirty hand.

“Fortune is a fickle bitch, eh Athos? She’ll not be your whore tonight,” he laughs. It’s as near as d’Artagnan has ever seen the man to good-humour. 

“Then I must sleep alone,” replies Athos easily. He upends the pitcher and, finding it empty, signals for a refill. A new jug is swiftly despatched along with fresh glasses.

Decision made, d’Artagnan slips into Carbonet’s newly-vacated chair. “Cards?” he asks disingenuously. 

Athos’s eyes are half-lidded but he nods good-naturedly and deals out a new hand. “Why not?”

They tie the first game and after that d’Artagnan loses every trick. He’s too proud not to bet and Athos accepts every bid until d’Artagnan is completely without coin. He’s wondering how to admit his predicament as Athos deals again and waits watching him silently.

“I cannot bid,” says d’Artagnan at last. “I have nothing to stake with unless you would accept my watch or a note of credit.”

Athos drains his glass and gathers the cards up. “Do not play where you cannot pay.”

He gives d’Artagnan a penetrating look and departs without waiting to hear any further explanations. There is scorn but that doesn’t hurt as much as the accompanying disappointment. D’Artagnan feels himself flushing. He wants to protest that this is unfair but knows that he cannot do that. Would he, he wonders, really have been able to take Athos’s money as had been his original intent? He assumes that the older man can afford the loss. He never complains about lack of funds in the way that Porthos and Aramis do. But d’Artagnan realises he knows very little about Athos’s private affairs and Athos never volunteers the information. 

Left to himself d’Artagnan pours another glass of wine. He is relieved when his friends join him. He’s never liked solitude and just now especially welcomes the escape from introspection.

“You got that wrong,” says Porthos pulling up a wooden stool. Aramis has commandeered the chair that Athos left. “Never play cards for money with Athos. He could take on the sharpest gamblers in Paris.”

“You could have warned me,” responds d’Artagnan indignantly. “I don’t understand. I watched him playing earlier and he was terrible.”

Porthos laughs, “Perhaps it was the opponent not the player. Consider it a lesson. You should be pleased he considers you man enough to play honestly. It’s like a fight. Would you wish to be let win with swords?”

D’Artagnan mulls this over as he makes his way through darkened streets to the room he rents from Monsieur Bonacieux. He will have to pawn his watch to tide him until payday. If he is careful he can buy it back and still have enough for his needs in the coming month. He is angry and mortified in turns and maybe a little bit proud that Athos considers him a man.

Athos is waiting for him by the corner. He throws something. D’Artagnan automatically puts out his hand to catch the object and discovers it is a purse of money. 

“Have you learned something?” Athos asks.

“A fool and his money are soon parted.”

Athos flashes a smile. “You are not a fool.” He turns to go and delivers a final comment over his shoulder as he continues walking in the direction of his home. “I will expect repayment when you are able.”

In truth, d’Artagnan is not sure what he was learned tonight. But this is Athos. Athos is complicated. And sometimes complicated is good.


End file.
